


had you thinking you'd never be alone

by carol_danvers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes-centric, Character Death, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 17:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18674302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carol_danvers/pseuds/carol_danvers
Summary: Bucky doesn't remember a time when he was not friends with Steve Rogers. AU where Steve never gets the serum and they never get their happy ending.





	had you thinking you'd never be alone

Bucky doesn't remember a time when he was not friends with Steve Rogers. 

He'd been there for so long that Bucky can barely remember when they met. If he had to guess, it was at the playground one day, and Steve was being stupid somewhere and Bucky took that as his cue to make him stop it.

All Bucky's best memories included Steve. When they were six, kicking up mud in the rain. When they were eight, and they made up a secret language to pass notes in. When they were nine, but Steve looked eight so they threw carrots and spices and beans together to make him grow faster. When they were ten, and Sarah Rogers took them to Coney Island. 

They're both eleven now, in this world, with Bucky crouching at Steve's bedside the way that they had so many times before. 

"Did I tell you about the spaceship?" Bucky asks, voice hoarse. 

Steve, eyes closed, shakes his head. His throat hurts too much for him to talk. 

"I read about it in my book. The one with the cover you liked."

"The red one," Steve recalls. His voice is crackly and it hurts Bucky's heart in a way he didn't know things he couldn't see could hurt. 

"Yeah, Stevie." Bucky's lips are in that loose smile that he knows Steve likes. He said it was good for drawing. Strong lines. "But the spaceship. It's so cool. It goes to different planets, and when it lands, it gives a big boom like a drum. Smoke and dust goes everywhere and so the astronauts wear goggles to keep it out of their eyes." 

"What color is it?" 

"It's white, with red stripes. There are big windows in the sides so that you can see all the stars when you pass by." 

"What do the stars look like?" Steve's eyes are scrunched tight, as if he is trying to see the spaceship on his closed eyelids. 

Bucky took a deep breath, finding Steve's hands in his own. God, Steve's hands are so small, he feels so fragile, and he's shivering, and Bucky would give anything to warm him up. "They're all different colors, any color you want them to be." 

"I like blue," Steve whispers, and Bucky rubs his hand gently, the skin loose under his fingers. "Like your eyes." 

"You're never gonna see them again if you don't open up your own eyes, punk." 

Steve opens his eyes, the hint of a smirk on his lips. It was the most life Bucky had seen on him in days. "I'm not dying, Buck." 

"I know," Bucky insists, even though he isn't sure at all and God, he's terrified of just the possibility.

"You worry too much," Steve says mildly, but he opens his eyes. "I promise I'm not gonna die on you." 

"Your ma got the last rites done," Bucky whispers. That wasn't something that he was supposed to say. Steve had been asleep at the time, finally having been able to pass out through the nausea. "Your ma got the last rites done, Stevie, and what - what am I supposed to do without you? Without - Steve - "

"Hey," Steve whispers. He squeezes Bucky's hand, and his grip is somehow still strong. "You're my best pal, Buck. I promise I'm not gonna die."

Bucky leans over, putting his forehead against Steve's hand. He wasn't going to let Steve see him cry. He wasn't. Not this time. "Please don't." 

Bucky knows the realities. Knows the way that the doctors speak about Steve when Sarah wasn't able to hear them. Knows the things they do to kids like Steve. The experiments. The trials. The ways they pick and pull and say there are no other options. Bucky knows the things that people say about Steve. How weak he is. How weak he would always be. 

But Bucky also knows Steve. He knows that Steve is a firecracker who doesn't let go of things that he wants to hold onto. He knows that Steve is stubborn like his ma is, knows that when Steve wants something, he gets it. And he knows what Steve's promises mean. Steve would live into the next century to keep his promise. 

"You pinky promise?"

Steve moves their hands, interlocking their pinkies. They are only eleven years old. They aren't going to be saying goodbye. "Pinky promise." 

By the time that they are fourteen, Bucky knows several things. He knows that once, his father slapped him for talking about the raid on the queer bar downtown. _We don't bring talk of those folk into this house._ He knows that Henry Jenkins said he was in love with Dolores from English class because he would do anything for her. _That's what love is, Bucky._

By the time that they are fourteen, Bucky would do absolutely anything for Steve. He always would have, but now - now he has a name for it. He also has a secret to hide. 

The result of having been friends for as long as you can remember is that you knew each other so well the twitch of a finger was enough to tell the other what kind of day you were having. Sometimes Bucky would watch the speed at which Steve tapped his pencil against the desk, and he could tell if Steve had gotten enough sleep last night. Sometimes he would listen for Steve's footsteps and when they came up the apartment staircase, he'd run to the door. Sometimes they would play jacks, bent over on the floor, and Steve's score meant how bad his asthma was that day. 

Steve knows Bucky is hiding something. Bucky was never good at lying, at least not to Steve. No one else gets him like Steve does. 

And Bucky knows that, knows that Steve knew there was something up. He averts his eyes away from Steve's where he didn't use to, let his gaze hesitate on Steve's collarbones longer than he usually did. His touches always linger a fingertip more than they used to.

He prays, now. He'd told Steve that he didn't, one day. Told him about all the times in church when he'd just been squirming in the pews, ready to go home, pretending he was praying to a guy he didn't quite believe was there. But now Steve had caught him, more than once, knelt at his bedside, hands clasped. 

_Lord, I know I didn't pray when I was young, but I am now, and that's gotta count for something. Lord, I know I’m not good, I know there's something wrong with me, but please. Please take this away, please, why didn't you make me good?_

The thing about Steve is that he is good. He's kind in a way that the other boys aren't, in the way that Bucky's father had never taught him boys could be. Steve is always standing up for people he has no business fighting for, always the first person to punch when someone hurts one of the Barnes sisters, always the first person to protest when the government fucks up again. 

And he's good to Bucky. He's good in the same way that he had been when they were six, but it was more than that now. He's good in the way that he listens to Bucky's problems and gives him advice. Good in the way that he rolls his eyes and calls him out when Bucky is being stupid. Good in the way that he knows when Bucky doesn't want to talk about something, and knows when not to push him. 

God, Bucky had never deserved Steve Rogers. 

It is sinful, Bucky knows, to feel the way he does. His father had drilled that in him often enough. It is sinful the way that he wants to run his hands through Steve's hair, wants to touch him everywhere, wants to kiss him. 

It is sinful the way that he wants Steve near him always, holding his hand the way that the dames do. It is sinful the way that he wants to press himself close to Steve, wants to bite at his lips. It is sinful, Bucky knows, to love another boy. But that doesn't stop him from loving Steve Rogers. 

Sometimes Steve catches him, looking too long when he can't bring himself to tear away from Steve's eyes. 

"What're you staring at?" 

"Nothing," Bucky says, blushing furiously. "You've got a bit of spinach in your teeth." 

And Steve goes to the mirror and picks around and there is nothing there and Steve says, "you're blind, Buck." And Bucky blushes again and Steve says, "So it's true what they say? Jerking off makes you blind?" 

And Bucky is scarlet, and he says, "Fuck off, Rogers," and makes Steve laugh. Bucky knows he is damned to hell but Steve's laugh is so beautiful that it doesn't matter. 

By the time that they are fourteen, Bucky Barnes is a sinner, and he doesn't care at all. 

It comes out in little moments, in moments he forgets to hide behind prayers and closed eyes. It comes out when they're playing board games, shirtless in the summer heat. Steve lies spread eagle on the couch, arms out as if he is trying to soak up all the warmth in the air. Bucky rolls the dice and moves his piece, watching Steve out of the corner of his eye. It comes out when Bucky steals a bottle of vodka and they get drunk on the roof of the Barnes' apartment building, laughing, red faced with the sunset in their eyes. _You're so fucking pretty it makes my heart hurt._

It comes out when they're walking home from school, Steve carrying his sketchbook in one hand, Bucky's arm slung around his shoulder. They walk quickly, like they can't wait to be alone, and Bucky pulls him off the sidewalk and into the park. They drop their bags and climb the old oak tree like they're kids again. Bucky pulls Steve up the branches he's too short to reach, and they sit there, watching the people pass by. Steve seems to shimmer in the heatwave, skin like diamonds. 

It comes out when Bucky takes Steve to the Brooklyn Museum of Art for his birthday, treating him to coffee and pretending they’re not addicted to the stuff. They steal hotdogs from the street vendors because they're too poor to afford it. They grab them and run away, laughing, holding hands. They only stop when Steve's choking on his own breath, coughing up his lungs. Bucky keeps hold of Steve's hand for as long as he can get away with it, just until Steve begins to pull away. 

It's in the moments when Bucky looks over at him. It's in the moments he looks back on, trying to find a time he did not love Steve Rogers. He remembers when he first saw Steve really sick, when they were eight, and Steve caught the flu and was out of school for weeks. After the third day, Bucky showed up at his house, banging on the door, demanding to be let in. 

"You're gonna wake up the whole neighborhood," Sarah Rogers had complained. 

"Sorry, ma'am, but where's Steve? What's wrong with him?" 

And Sarah had just sighed. "He's in his room. _Boys."_

"Been waiting for three days," Steve complained when Bucky stomped over to him. "You're late, Barnes." 

"Well someone decided to go an' get sick and not tell me," Bucky said stubbornly. 

"Sorry, I should have just sent over my carrier pigeon to tell you!" 

"It would've been nice!"

And they had burst into laughter, and laughed until Steve's stomach hurt and Bucky had stopped teasing him. 

By the time that they are sixteen, Bucky has seen Steve to the brink of death a million times, and every time, he comes back. His fever breaks in sweat and tears, and Bucky holds his hair back while he throws up. His eyes shimmer like he isn't quite all there in the head, and when he's sleeping, Bucky kisses his forehead gently. His skin always tastes like salt, and Bucky has never tasted anything sweeter. 

By the time they are sixteen, Bucky has been burning for years, and he has no plans to stop any time soon. There's a kind of aching in his chest where his heart should be, beating with the rhythm of his heart, singing to the tune of Steve Rogers. 

By the time they are sixteen, Bucky has every faith that he will never leave Steve. and Steve won't die. he won't. He always gets better. Besides- he promised. 

Steve is sixteen when he gets pneumonia. It's the third time he's had it. His breaths rattle like chains on handcuffs, wrapping Bucky's hands around Steve's. His eyes are always closed, too tired to open them. 

"Eat something," Sarah says, her voice steady. Steve has an ear infection, Bucky knows, but that won't stop Steve from calling them all out on their pity. He hates being pitied, being doted on when he's sick. He's already promised not to die, so he won't. End of story. No need for all the drama. 

"You'll feel better if you do," Bucky adds on, holding a bowl of soup in his hands. It warms his skin. Steve is always so cold. "It's a Sarah Rogers specialty," he teases. "My favorite." 

Sarah smiles. "Sweet boy," she says, and ruffles his hair. "Make sure he eats, Doctor Barnes." 

Bucky thinks he would like to be a doctor one day. He likes taking care of Steve, helping him feel better. He wants to come up with new medicines, the kinds that will help Steve, with asthma and scoliosis and pernicious anemia and yes, Bucky has all Steve's illnesses memorized, shut up, it doesn't mean anything. He thinks maybe Steve will get better when Bucky comes up with a magical healing pill. 

"What're you thinking about?" Steve asks. Bucky takes a spoonful of soup and pushes it towards Steve's mouth. "Fuck off, I'm not an invalid, I can feed myself." He makes no move to do that, though, so Bucky pushes the spoon between Steve's lips and he swallows. 

"I’d like to be a doctor. I want to help people, you know?" 

"You'll be a good doctor. You're smart like that." 

"Thanks, Stevie." Bucky pushes another spoonful of soup towards Steve. 

"Again, you're not a nurse, you don't need to spoon feed me." 

Bucky scoffs. "I could be a great nurse." 

"But you're not," Steve says, looking at Bucky. He sits up and takes the bowl of soup from him. 

"But I could be." 

"But you're not." 

"Maybe I will be a nurse," Bucky says indignantly. He's smiling though, the kind of private smile that's for Steve and only Steve. "You should let me practice on you." 

Steve snorts. "I hate you." 

"You love me," Bucky says, and Steve is smiling as he eats, and that's how Bucky knows Steve will get better. "Eat your damn soup." 

Bucky sleeps over that night. He and Sarah move all the cushions from the couch onto the floor next to Steve's bed. The two stay up late, until the only light in the room is from the street lamp outside. They talk about nothing, about that girl from math class that's always staring at Bucky like he hung the moon. There's a hint of a laugh when Steve talks about her, says she's pretty and Bucky should go with her, take her dancing, maybe. Girls like dancing. It's a shame Steve doesn't know how to do it.

When Steve finally falls asleep, Bucky gets that warm feeling in his stomach, unsettled, like a landslide of organs are collapsing inside of him. He's going to tell Steve, he thinks. When he wakes up. There's a chance - maybe - 

No. Bucky can't let himself think like that. He shifts, turning onto his side. Steve's skin is pale in the blue dark of the nighttime, his face almost ghostly. But he looks at peace, his lips slightly parted and his eyes resting shut. 

God, Bucky wants to kiss him. He wants to feel Steve's lips against his own, wants to taste the other boy on his skin. He wants to run his hands along Steve's arms, feeling the scar on his shoulder from when he fell out of that tree, kissing his way across Steve's collarbone. He wants to press his lips to Steve's neck and feel his pulse beating. He wants to hear Steve say his name, wants to whisper _honey, I love you_ like it's an anthem, a prayer. 

Bucky takes a deep breath, pushing away all his thoughts. 

He'll tell Steve tomorrow. When the light has flooded the room and is dancing in Steve's eyes like a ballet. In the moment when he looks the most beautiful, rubbing his eyes free of sleep, smiling lazily as he says good morning. 

Except tomorrow comes too soon, and Bucky's heart is beating in his throat, and he's choking on the words. He has so much to say, but he can't say it, and instead he starts coughing and wheezing and Steve is frowning at him, saying "Did I get you sick?" and Bucky can't tell him the truth. 

"I - Steve - " and it's stupidly tender and Bucky wants to take it all back, say something better than that, say _Steve, Steve, Steve, I have something to tell you, oh God I'm so fucking in love with you that sometimes it feels like i'm drowning in it -_

Steve rolls his eyes. "You're gonna be late for school." 

"Yeah. I - you're good here? I can stay - "

"I’m fine, Bucky," Steve says patiently. His words are slightly breathy, but Sarah says his fever broke last night, and he's not coughing up his lungs, so Bucky figured he was okay. They were in the home stretch now. "Get to school. You have to bring me the homework so I don't fall behind." 

"You've been behind since kindergarten," Bucky says with a smile. "I'll see you later, punk."

Sarah is just as reluctant to leave Steve as Bucky is, but she can't take another day off work. She's the best nurse the hospital has, and they might not fire her, but it's not worth the risk. She leaves a pile of books at Steve's bedside, kissing him goodbye. "Take care of yourself, Steven Rogers. Don't make me come back to find out you haven't eaten or drank or - "

"Ma, I'm fine," Steve protests. He's laughing, pushing her out of the house. "Have a good day at work." 

They leave him with a smile on his face, and it's a perfect day outside, and really all the good omens are adding up. He'll take Steve to the park later today, Bucky thinks. The fresh air and sun will do him some good. 

He'll toss an arm around Steve’s shoulders, making sure he doesn't get too out of breath like Sarah always worries he will. They can sit at the foot of that tree, and Bucky won't touch Steve because Steve probably won't want him to, but he'll confess. It's eating him inside, a parasite on his lungs. He'll confess and it will feel so good to not hide it anymore, and maybe Steve will kiss him. Maybe, Bucky thinks.

"Mr. Barnes. Mr. Barnes, pay attention, please." 

Bucky blinks. "What?" 

His teacher sighs. "Open your book to page 238 and do problems 12-35." 

Page 238, Bucky thinks. He'll tell that to Steve later, so he can keep up. Steve has this strange love/hate thing with school. He's obsessed with keeping up, but if he can get away with ditching, he will without a thought. He'll do all the work later that night. 

God, Bucky loves that boy. And he thinks maybe he deserves happiness too. Bucky may be a damned sinner, he may be a selfish asshole, but if he has a shot at happiness, maybe he should take the chance. 

He's never been alone. He's never been without Steve. He doesn't plan on being without Steve anytime soon. 

Six blocks away, Steve Rogers is scared. 

His breathing is doing that ragged thing, like the air is getting caught on a cliffside and it tearing all the stitches in his side. He can't quite control it, he can't grasp it the way his mother taught him to.

His hands are shaking, and he has never been afraid like this before. He's been sick a million times, he's looked death in the eye and he's made the devil blink twice. He's stared in the mirror and seen a ghost, he's seen his bones split through his skin. He's lost his breath and forgotten to find it again until Bucky Barnes whispered his name.

But he's never been afraid like this. There's a dark feeling between his ribs, like maybe his bones are crumbling into ashes, disintegrating into rusted piles of something that used to be. A blackened feeling clumps up in his throat, in his lungs, and he thinks maybe he is rotting from inside out.

There is something dark and broken and dying inside of Steve Rogers, and he doesn't think that he can keep it away anymore. 

He stares at the book his hands. Romeo and Juliet. He wonders why they didn't just talk to each other. They wouldn't have to die that way. They died alone, and in pain, but they could have loved each other. 

He coughs, and he tastes blood on the roof of his mouth. It tastes like copper. When they were kids, maybe ten, he and Bucky poured water and vinegar into a pot and washed all their pennies. They counted them and came up with three dollars. Bucky had smiled like he had won the goddamned jackpot. He had such a beautiful smile, Steve remembers. 

He coughs again, the blood leaking onto his fists. He tries to scrape it off, but it's stained his pale skin and he wonders if it will ever go away. He can practically feel Bucky scrubbing at his arms and hands with a warm washcloth, telling Steve about his day as he did. 

All his best memories have Bucky in them. He's sure that if he hadn't been friends with Bucky he would've died a hundred years ago. But some part of his soul is still holding on. He had promised Bucky he would stay. He planned on keeping that promise. 

He coughs again, tearing and ripping at his throat, aching in his lungs. The air won't go into his lungs in the right way; the paths and tubes and organs are all jumbled up, like uncompleted puzzle pieces.

He's sweating so badly, his shirt soaked. A drop of sweat drips into his eye, and something inside of him breaks. He's coughing, and tears leak out of the corners of his eyes. Bucky. Ma. Ma, where are you? She would know what to do. She always knew what to do, and Bucky always held his hand while she did it. 

The book fell out of his hands. It hit the pile, sending the rest of the books spilling across the floor. The floorboards are creaking, and Steve gasps for breath. 

Oh, wretched, damned soul. 

He had promised Bucky, he can't die, not now, he still has so much to tell Bucky, so much to confess, he had promised. 

Steve closes his eyes. blood drips past his lips. He had coughed too much. He isn't breathing enough, like broken down fans that don't spin right. His heartstrings have finally snapped. 

He needs his inhaler, the asthma cigarettes, Ma, Bucky, someone - 

Steve is choking on his own spit, his own blood. The blankets are strangling him, the sweat plastering the sheets to his skin. His eyes fly open, and all he could see was blue. 

Like the sky. Heaven, maybe. 

Like Bucky's eyes. 

-

Steve Rogers died alone. He was scared, and he was alone.

Death keeps no promises except one: one day, everyone will die. 

Bucky finds him after school. He tries to shake Steve awake, and he does not cry, because Steve will not wake up to Bucky crying, because Steve never knows what to say when Bucky is crying, and Bucky hates when Steve watches him with that sad look in his eyes, and Bucky shakes him harder and there are tears prickling at the corners of his eyelids like needles and pin pricks and syringes and shots and he was gonna be a doctor and make Steve get better and Steve had promised - 

Bucky screams. It tears at his throat and he rips at the skin on his arms, as if he cannot get it off fast enough because this skin has touched Steve Rogers, has wanted him, and this skin has to be treasured deep inside Bucky's heart, not in the world where death can touch it because Steve was - was - 

Sarah Rogers comes home and finds Bucky shaking. He holds his knees close to his chest, and he is sobbing. He isn't breathing right, everything is too fast, and then Sarah is screaming because Steve Steve Steve - 

She is shaking at him, _wake up, wake up, wake up,_ but Steve's eyes are only opening when she touches them. There is blood on his fists as if he had gone down fighting the Grim Reaper, and she wouldn't have been surprised if he had done exactly that and she is crying and Steve was - was - 

Sarah Rogers and Bucky Barnes sit together, and they cry. There is no noise except the raging wave of endless aching in his ears, and he was gonna tell Steve he loved him. Steve's gotta know, he's gotta. Because Bucky loves him, and he was - was - 

Bucky doesn't remember a time when he was not friends with Steve Rogers.

He learns, now, what it means to be alone. He has never known loneliness in quite this way before. He had always had snapped jokes and cheeks cut sharply and blue eyes, so blue, and he had had a firecracker of a best friend, who had lit his world on fire with his touch, as if Bucky was paper and Steve was a match and the entire world was theirs to conquer. 

He can see Sarah Rogers crumpling down, her knees hitting the floor hard, he can imagine all the bones in her body shattering as he crawls over to her, and she holds him, so tight, and he can imagine her imagining that Bucky was Steve and God -

Bucky would give anything if it meant Steve would be alive again. Steve had always been the good one. The one with the smile like the sun, he was the one who stood up for the people who couldn't, he was the one who fought for his rights with a kind of wildfire passion that took down every obstacle in his path. 

There is nothing left of that world Steve imagined. All the dreams they shared seemed to have drifted away, until there is only Sarah Rogers' dress clutched in Bucky's fists, sweat pooling between his fingers. There are only the tears that stain his cheeks like drops of blood and there are his teeth, clenched and tight, and he had never tasted Steve's lips and he never will. 

Steve was gone, and the universe collapsed in on itself. There was nothing left to fight for. 

He learned, once, in school, that there is a theory that the universe is infinite. Some people think that it is ever expanding, ever growing larger. Steve had asked how that was possible, because matter can't be created. Their teacher had only shrugged. It's just a theory, she had said. 

Bucky wonders what happened after you died. Maybe all the matter that was in your soul floated up to heaven. Maybe it went to the ends of the universe and became stars. Maybe when you died, your spirit became a galaxy, a constellation of planets and stars made of up all the things that you had used to dream. Maybe all the dreams you had dreamt became nebulas. Maybe your regrets were black holes. 

Bucky doesn't remember a time when he was not friends with Steve Rogers.

He is lying, now, on his back in an empty field. A tent is pitched a few feet away from him. He can hear Gabe Jones snoring. The stars were swirling in front of him, and he wondered if Steve was watching. 

Bucky was aching. 

It had been years and the weeds had grown near Steve's headstone and Bucky had ripped them out and covered his fists with dirt and mud and he had cried and cried and he hadn't thought he would ever stop. He tried to wipe away his tears and all he got were streaks of dirt across his cheeks. 

It had been years and Bucky's heart didn't beat right anymore, the tune was slightly off, slightly broken. His lungs took shallow breaths where they used to be deep, as if he was holding onto his breath, saving it for Steve, who hadn't gotten enough breaths. 

It had been years and the headstone was slightly lopsided now in the shifting dirt and Bucky had slept next to that headstone on his eighteenth birthday, a bottle of vodka in his hand, and Sarah Rogers had found him sobbing, the glass of the bottle impaled in his left arm. He had broken it over his forearm as if it would wake him up from this nightmare. 

It had been years and he still hadn't woken up. 

"Barnes?" someone calls. Bucky looks over, frowning. Dum Dum Dugan is watching him quietly from the mouth of the tent. Bucky can't make out his facial expression, the darkness masking every secret. "You okay?" 

"I'm good," Bucky says.

"You sure?" 

"I'm sure." 

Dum Dum nods, ducking back into the tent. "Wake me up when you want to change watch," he shouts back. 

Bucky turns away from him and closes his eyes. He doesn't want to see the stars anymore. They remind him too much of the galaxies he had seen in Steve's eyes. They're too peaceful. There was no peace anymore. Not in war, not without his anchor by his side. 

If he lives, if he gets through this godforsaken battle, he will see a better world- the one Steve had dreamed of. One without concentration camps and anti-Semitism and torture. One without hate. Bucky will fight for that world, fight for the dream that he couldn't quite imagine anymore. Steve had always been the hopeful one. 

But a few weeks later, the 107th is captured at the battle of Azzano. 

Bucky Barnes is taken prisoner and he is tortured. He is undone and remade and no one ever comes to rescue him.


End file.
